What is that castle, its ruins over yonder rooftop tower leaning against the sky’s staff? Its twin spires in the distance waving green flags of surrender. Clinging to rubble, its walls breathe out oxygen, and its roots drink from the moat of the deep. Its turrets sprouting new leaves shading inside its branches while the morning sky moves patiently forward upholding a blank canvas.
But lo, my eyes play with imaginative lego, building castles from silhouetted twin trees in faraway lands through pulp fiction doors —doodling with Dawn’s side hustle, moonlighting through my window. While early morning coffee cup dregs foretelling enlightenment’s new age, interpret the runes of the day.
in spoonfuls at Dawn
In this month’s #poetrychallenge Rebecca Cuningham @ Fake Flamenco challenges us to write a haibun (in this case, a paragraph of six sentences of poetic prose with a related haiku) on the theme of “door.” The door can be: physical, metaphysical; beginning, portal, invitation, threshold, new age, or next step.